Sunday, August 26, 2007

The Suburbanites

with a shout-out to dark christians over at el jay

GOD: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles.

St. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, Sir, they pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow, and, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, Sir.

GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.

St. FRANCIS: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE: "Dumb a nd Dumber", Lord. It's a story about...

GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Friday on the island

I woke up to a hazy day and a dog who was quite unwilling to take a walk for fear that we were going home and
leaving her behind. She'd seen the Bean bags and suitcases and assumed the worst. I dragged her to the tennis
courts and back.

We made the eight o'clock and headed up route one for Freeport. Once there, we ate at Stickey Buns [overpriced
but delicious] and then we browsed a few stores. I got a pair of fuzzy socks for lounging around in. We walked
around Beans too, neither one of us purchasing anything there. The L.L. Bean's staff are trained to ask everyone
they walk into how they "are." What if I told them the truth?

The truth is husband's oldest sister asked us the other day if we wouldn't want to go with her mother to some rock
city in Jordan or somewheres in October on a tour. Not having the money to drop, we said no. Does it dawn on
these people ever that we have not had an easy time of this for the past three and a half years or so since my car
accident? I'm on disability. I've got no job. My prospects are thin. Running Sores is not exactly telling
anyone that I was golden. I'm being pressured to work full-time and I don't even know if I can manage a part-time
unless I wind up working for myself. I interviewed for an aide position at a t.b.i. day program and possibly even
to sub as a kitchen helper or at a group home. Dude claimed I have to be able to lift for their group homes. I
know they got some where no, one does not need to lift. No dice. I can't even get an interview for delivering
newspapers or working at a store for cripes sakes. Where are we supposed to pull this money from to go on such
a trip in October? Out of our asses? I'm too old to be a prostitute.

After escaping the clutches of Freeport, husband drove us down to Portland so we could eat lunch [overpriced but
delicious] and go to the comics shop. Then a run to the supermarket for him and the Goodwill for me and back to
the island on the two o'clock boat.

The dog was happy to see me and I was happy to see her. Husband's cousin had arrived on island and stopped by to
talk to me. I like her well enough. We click and she doesn't roll her eyes in horror at the thought of surfing
the net or having a computer art program. One of the great things about her is that she is not afraid of the words
traumatic brain injury. [The rest of husband's family dwells on my back injuries which by far is the least of my
troubles at the moment. My father didn't even tell his side of the family that I'd had a car accident]. Cousin
happened to mention the same trip to Jordan. She and her husband will also be going. Mother-in-law has been
complaining about 8-12K she needs for roof work to be done on this cottage in the spring of '08. Bloody hell, why
not go to Jordan?

Mother-in-law has been having stream-of-consciousness over-idealized monologues about her perfect life lately. The
topic over dinner [chicken for me, salmon for them, stringbeans, corn on the cob, and tomato slices for all] was her
very own perfect diet and she eats salt and butter and still manages to keep her weight the same. That along with
the idyllic farm that her mum grew up on and that she visited. I was not having an easy time of things. I cannot
seem to lose weight and barely manage to stay around the same weight. And she has a perfect life and a perfect
upbringing and a perfect everything and perfect trips to England and one other exotic location every year.

I am tired of having to start at the bottom with the job thing. I have been told over and over how smart I am, how
much talent I have and I know these things. The tragedy is that I have not been able to sell myself into a position
of money. It's always start at the bottom, work my way up. My working experience seems always to count for naught.
So with the last job, starting at the bottom once again, I worked my way up and then along comes a moron who had to
get high before driving and there went my well-paying career. I hated it anyway. But this? An insult to my life
once again. I am tired of having to pay for what other people do. I am angry. Seething. In a rage over it and
I cannot find my way home.

After the meeting tonight was reading, computer time, this bitchy synopsis, listening to the neighbor's drunken kids
peel up and down the road, and bed.


Tuesday, August 21, 2007


A sunny day. Mother-in-law went off to town to a luncheon being held by her hairdresser. We waited for the mechanic
to come to pick up her car sans muffler which had fallen off. I took doggie up the South Road to the tip of the
island and then back along Hamilton Beach. She had a fairly good run and enjoyed it I think. The extra time she
has been getting heeling on the lead also seems to make her happier and more sure of me as the leader.

Back home, she refused to go inside. She was allowed to lay next to the chair on the porch [on lead of course] and
then she migrated to her favorite corner next to the door. The three humans [husband, husband's sister, and I] plus
my dog and the Daemon Dawg went off to Fishermens' Beach for an hour or so. A beached float provided a place
underneath where both dogs were excavating a nest. Both also enjoyed the water and chasing each other in wide
circles toward the end of it all.

After a pleasant lunch, we all sat around engaged in solitary pursuits.

Dog-walking, dinner, library time, and quiet time rounded out the day and evening.



It was a sunny day overshadowed by the impending party at 5 o'clock. Husband's older sister and mother-in-law went
off to church. I took the doggie for walks and made 100x100 icons/avatars with The GIMP. Husband and I took dog
and mother-in-law's dog to the beach.

Mother-in-law's dog, hereby known as Daemon Dawg, is a terrier with a rotten temperment that the Dog Whisperer would
describe as being in the danger zone. She bit me once and I beat her right in front of my mother-in-law. She has
bitten, nipped, and growled at other people too. The Dog Whisperer would probably insist on putter her down or at
least upon a muzzle. If it were up to me and the Daemon Dawg had to stay alive, i'd be in favor of yanking all of her
fangs out. And vocal cords too, since she won't shut up.

On the beach, the Daemon Dawg lets loose and runs all over frantically in huge sweeping circles, jumping over rocks,
and frolicking in the waves. She plays well with my dog and when we all came upon two bigger dogs, the Daemon Dawg
allowed herself to be chased without so much as a snarl. Showing herself to be a good sport, the two larger dogs
went on to play in general and it was all very chummy.

The party wasn't. The party was a vast amount of suckage, with fancy food and five bottles of alcohol mixed in with
a bunch of old people and the four of us. The Daemon Dawg had been shuttled off to mother-in-law's bedroom where
she proceeded to bark non-stop for three hours. My dog was supposed to stay in our bedroom. This did not entirely
suit her as she is fairly social. I escaped up there for most of the party-- which was full of talk and legal things
about wills and such since a neighbor's sister had just kicked the bucket fairly young-- and make a break for the
outdoors, saying merely that the dog wished to go for her evening constitution. As we got back, the party was
breaking up.

Husband had come upstairs asking if I wasn't coming down at all. I informed him that I was having difficulty with
the booze, the idea that he was bartending, and what was occuring between mother-in-law and grieving neighbor. When
the news had come down to church this morning that neighbor's sister had died, mother-in-law could not wait to insert
herself into the middle of it all. Quite like when she had showed up unwanted by my grandmother's deathbed and I
had been vocal beforehand about not wishing her presence there. It is hard enough to die without being expected to
suffer the presence of a stranger. And hard enough to grieve without being exposed to all kinds of advice and so

At any rate, the suckage was over with at 8:30 p.m. or so. Reading and computer time as usual before bed.




Saturday dawned a bit overcast and windy. Nippy. Doggie and I went for a nice walk. At 10, husband and I were off
to the library. I spent an hour in fustration and irritation because I couldn't remember how to connect to the
hotspot there. Pissy I was. I did go next door to the town hall where Daisy the [vietnamese pot-bellied] pig was
a featured guest with her human. Daisy was almost all black, had a pink bow, and was installed on a comfy chair
sleeping. She did not seem to care at all about her surroundings. Her human told the kids about her and I imagine
read a book about a pig. I didn't stay for that part.

Finally, I used husband's connection to update several blogs and whip out a couple of pissy self-pitying e-mails.
The power went out at the library then. We went to the store where I indulged in three selections of chocolate
candy and an orange blossom ice cream bar. Husband had an m&m ice cream cone. "This looks different," he said as
he reached into the freezer for it. Total charge was an even six bucks. Neither of us are convinced that Ed has
set prices for his merchandise. Wife Julie, the real brain of the couple, was absent.

Husband went for a walk, I took the dog for another walk and then retired for a nap. About 4:15 my c-pap machine
went off. I ambled downstairs to discover that our house was missing electric. I and doggie wandered down to the
dock on the west side of the island and spoke to the lobsterers. Power was out on the island. Back at the cottage,
the old people around had announced that Chebeague, Deer, and all of Yarmouth was affected. Long Island too, as it
turned out.

Husband's turn to grumble. His yellow split pea soup was not finished cooking on the electric stove. His mother
left with the congregation of old people to go off to a barbeque. Husband's sister, husband, and I had cheese on
crackers and salad for dinner. Unfortunately, no one answered the phone at the clamshack so the going out for ice
cream as dessert got vetoed.

That left me in a bit of a funk. I called home to a friend in recovery and we talked for a bit. I called another
friend in New Hampshire to check in on how he was doing and left a message on his cell. The lights came back on
about 7:45 or so and I read for a bit and filled up the rest of the evening with the computer and a doggie stroll.


Monday, August 20, 2007


On Friday in the rain while waiting for husband to pick up his mother's mail, I watched a squirrel run up the side
of a house and into a hole carved between two ornaments under the roof. The hole was large and perfect for the
squirrel. I wondered if the squirrel was a he or a she. If there was a squirrel family in there. And how long
before the owner would notice and do something about it. The squirrel didn't come back out.

Husband did. "It's raining," I said as I shut the window. He shrugged. "Not much," he replied. I indicated the
inside of the door where the rain had come in. "Not much now."

sapphoq n friends

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Maine-- Friday and part of Saturday

This morning, husband and I loaded doggie and a variety of suitcases into the car and we took off for Maine. We got here this afternoon. Husband's eldest sister came to pick us up. Dinner was a cream chicken dish, salad, and peaches and ice cream. Mother-in-law complained during dinner about one of her granddaughers. Granddaughter had moved far away with her lover and hadn't seen my mother-in-law in pretty near a year. Mother-in-law complained about the guests that granddaughter had invited along. Mother-in-law has something wrong with her I think and has probably had her whole life. Because she is rich though, she got to be eccentric rather than subjected to mental hell 'treatment.' That is a story for another time, After dinner was the island A.A. meeting and now a bit of reading before bedtime.The fire is going in the kitchen woodstove which makes things toasty. The skeeters are out full-force tonight and the autumn weather is slowly moving in. It was a relief to get back here after the meeting and away from the little bastards who are flying blood-suckers.The reason for coming up here has been moved from tomorrow Saturday to Sunday evening. And it has become a family of four plus whatever other flotsam plan to show up for lemonade and whatever alcohol will be available. I was a bit put out at first for the party being moved and us not being notified until Wednesday evening. In the end, I decided that it didn't matter to me. Husband was the one who had to take the extra day off of work when he still believed that the party was to be Saturday.We left this morning anyways. I do not enjoy the feeling of being held hostage to someone else's whims. Since this party has dissolved into something less than family, if I'd had my druthers, I woul have elected to come back up here some other week. My homegroup N.A. picnic is Saturday and so I am missing it this year for this non-party up here in Maine. It was supposed to be a big gathering with all the family and some sort of weird-ass christmas tree out front decorated for the occasion. None of that happened. It is what it is. Pretty island and the dog likes it-- two things right there.SaturdayCloudy day.I took the dog for a nice walk.Then husband and I went to the library.I was all set to download my mail to incredimail here at the library hotspot
and the stupid ucking puter will not connect.
it says the adapter is under control by another program.

Going to instructions windows from husband's computer it says
run system 32 root etc and the damn puter
cannot find it.

I will have to fix when I get home
hopefully without a high bloodpressure attack.
I hate my laptop.
husband's just a button connects.
mine doesn't..

Stupid party is tomorrow-- it turns out
just four of us "family" including motherinlaw--
if I knew that iIwoulda just
stayed home.

Meanwhile I am sure iIwill feel better but
I just dont know when,

On the plus side I finally finished and sent in
application for the state program to give me a job.
It is not definite that I will get one but at least
it is sent.

And when I get home I am going to apply to
Goodwill for a part-time job.
Maybe some other places too.

love yas,